Alli Davies



Sister Moon


All day she watches. When I hang

out laundry, ceanothus branches

frame her cloud-cupped face. I peg

socks, shirts, pull down cotton

sleeves. She’s out of place in this

wind battered garden where bruises

play ring o’ roses at my throat.


Later I wash up, fill the bin,

onion skins and broken

crockery. Those plates can’t be replaced.

They came from Germany with a note:

Wir sind hocherfreut!


She peers through dirty panes,

pale face mirrored, avoids my gaze.

Perhaps she detects echoes, words

cruel as teeth, loose threads

running. There’s a tear in the fabric

and a button, hanging on.


I hide the whisky bottle. Futile.

He’s already drunk

it down to where anger lies, sleeping

tight against curved glass. She’s still

wide awake, turns the spotlight

on as keys violate the lock.

Looking up, I’m magnetized.




Alli Davies writes prose, poetry and script. She’s part-time Director for a fair trade jewellery business working with marginalised women in Nepal. Her work has been placed in competitions and published both on and offline, including Listen Up North, Everyday Poets, Slovo and the I Am Woman anthology.


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